


Dreams

by lornrocks



Category: Gamer, Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Dreams, M/M, but damn milo makes that outfit look good, but it's rick rape, hotsex, rickrape, rickrapespants, sylar thinks he's dreaming of peter, which is a horrible name btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar has a very strange dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

Flashing lights. Thumping, pounding music. People everywhere. Colors, everywhere- Sylar can hardly make out what the fuck he's looking at, nevermind where he is.

The realization dawns: He's dreaming. And apparently, he's dreaming about some dance club.

Weird.

He looks around warily, before moving to the bar and sitting down a stool. Before he can even say anything, the bartender slides a mysterious, glowing drink in front of him. Since this is a dream, Sylar shrugs and brings the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and savoring the taste.

 _Interesting..._ , he thinks. As he goes to take another sip, he notices someone has taken the liberty of plopping down on the stool next to him. No, not plopping, more like vaulting onto it. From the corner of his eye he can see long, skinny legs clad in tight black material and boots. Casually, he turns his head to get a better look, and stops dead.

The person sitting next to him looks exactly, _exactly_ like Peter. His hair is shorter, he has a black eye, and he's wearing some weird shiny latex material that sort of resembles a fireman's suit on ecstasy.

What. The. Fuck.

The man, who's not quite Peter, is shaking his feet impatiently and moves like he's on speed, twitching and frantic. He quirks his head at Sylar and smiles the most lecherous smile he has ever seen grace what appears to be Peter's face.

"Do I know you?" he asks, trying to decide if this person was really supposed to be Peter, in his messed up subconscious, anyway.

The man leans in super close, until his hot breath is ghosting on Sylar's ear, and he whispers in a low, sensual voice, "No, but you can get to know. Me."

Sylar doesn't even have time to process what he could possibly mean by this before the man's tongue darts out and licks a hot stripe up his ear.

Screw rational thought. Sylar lets out a low moan. That's all the signal the man needs before he grabs Sylar's hand and starts pulling him to an elevator. The second the doors close, he's all over Sylar like some sort of snake, darting around to nip and lick at Sylar's stunned form. Sharp teeth latch on to his neck and rough, quick hands grab at his hair, his chest, his thighs. The man presses himself against Sylar's thigh and Sylar could swear that the man was _humping his leg_.

He was debating pushing the man off when the elevator doors opened and the man dragged Sylar out and down a hall to a door. The two slipped inside and the door was slammed shut. The man pushed Sylar down so that he landed, stunned, on to a creaky bed with a horribly cheesy and slightly stained bed spread. When Sylar recovered from this, he looked up to see the man had one hand holding his tight pants open while the other was shoved inside, stroking himself as he leered at Sylar.

"Are we really going to do this?" Sylar asked, and the man's head fell back as he let out a loud laugh. His head snapped back forward.

"I don't think you have a choice anymore," he replied, his tongue daring out to lick his lips. For a dream, this guy was sure fucked up. Still, Sylar couldn't help but notice how incredibly turned on he was getting by this whole thing. The man moved to get on top of Sylar, his interest in this whole affair clearly evident as it rubbed against the taller man's leg. Dream or not, Sylar was sure as fuck not going to get fucked up the ass anytime soon. He pushed the man until he fell off the bed and on to the fuzzy rug on the floor. Sylar pounced on him, flipping him over and pulling his ridiculous pants down. The man was moaning and arching his back and grabbing at the rug.

"Oh, fuck yeah, fuck me, _ooohhhh-_ " the man moaned.

Okay, apparently he didn't have a problem with it. Smiling to himself, Sylar finally let himself go. It was just a dream, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylar opened his eyes. Blinking a few times, he rolled onto his back and started to stretch. God, what a dream. A weird ass dream. As he started waking up more, he realized that yup, he most certainly enjoyed that dream. He sighed and made his way to the bathroom. He had to take care of something today, and he most definitely could not be seen like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sylar was done getting ready, he headed over to the place that he needed to go to. It was Peter's. He was going to show him something he discovered, another one of those things about saving the world.

Whatever.

The world was always in trouble. Company or no, he'd come into a weird partnership with Peter. Maybe it was because they were so much alike, who knows? In any case, he paused before the door to Peter's apartment and straightened himself out, soothed his hair back. So maybe he was harboring a ridiculous and irrational crush on Peter Petrelli. It's not like anything would come of it.

He knocked on the door and waited a few seconds. The door opened. Peter peered out from around the door.

"Sylar? I didn't know you were coming today," he said, but he sounded weird. Sylar frowned.

"I can come back later," he offered, but Peter was quick to shake his head. He opened the door wider and Sylar stepped in, shrugging off his coat and handing it to Peter, who hung it up on a hook.

"I came to give you these," he explained, and handed Peter the stack of papers he came with. Peter nodded his head and took them, walking over to the table to lay them out. Truthfully, Sylar just wanted to see Peter, especially after the weird dream he had last night, but he wasn't about to admit that. Embarrassed at his weakness, he moved to sit in an armchair across from the table that Peter stood hunched over.

As he sat there awkwardly, waiting for Peter to finish reading, he couldn't help but notice the way Peter was bent over the table. God, he had a nice ass. Thoughts from the dream started creeping back into his head, and the image of the mysterious man's ass cradled in those tight latex pants made him flush. Soon, memories were flooding in and he couldn't help replace the mysterious man from his dream with Peter, imagining himself coming up behind Peter at the table and gripping those hips, grinding himself against Peter's ass. Mouth moving across his neck, leaving marks...Peter, stretched out under him, panting and wanting...Peter, moaning his name...Peter, Peter, Peter....

It was at this moment, when he was gripping the arms of the chair, back arched, breathing hard, that he realized that Peter was gripping the edge of the table hard, legs shaking slightly. His back moved in and out in harsh gasps. It was just then he remembered that Peter was a mind reader. He had probably heard exactly what Sylar was thinking about.

Shit.

Without turning around, Peter started to speak, his voice strained. "God, Sylar...I can hear your thoughts from here...filthy, dirty thoughts..." And Sylar swore he heard Peter let out a moan. "I want to fuck you so bad."

And before Sylar could even process what was happening, Peter had turned around, stalked over to Sylar, and planted himself firmly on to his lap, straddling his thighs and grinding their cocks together and his mouth worked to claim Sylar's.

Biting back a groan, Sylar grabs Peter's hips hard enough to bruise as he throws himself back into the kiss. Peter felt so good, so warm and responsive. He wasn't like the weird man in his dream, he was fluid and beautiful and _his_. Again, Sylar let himself fall, but this time, he was completely and totally awake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, the two of them lay together, stretched out on Peter's couch, with Peter laying on Sylar's chest, his hands resting on the taller man's shoulders. Sylar had his arms wrapped around Peter's back. He didn't want to admit he didn't want to let go. He could feel Peter's breath on his neck. It felt nice. Suddenly, he felt oddly compelled to tell Peter about the dream he had.

"I had a really weird dream last night," he began, but before he could continue, Peter interrupted.

"I know." Sylar stopped and tilted Peter's head up to face his.

"What?" he asked, brows furowed. And then Peter was grinning sheepishly.

"I put it there. I was tired of waiting for you to realize I was interested so I snuck into your house and put those ideas into your head."

There was a stunned silence as Sylar tried to process what Peter had just said. Sure, that was actually kind of creepy of Peter, but when he realized that Peter had felt the same way as him this whole time, his face lit up in a content smile. Satisfied, Peter let his head drop back down and he started nuzzling Sylar's neck again.

"So does this mean you'll wear pants like those for me?" Sylar asked, and Peter laughed that gorgeous laugh of his.

"We'll see baby, we'll see...."

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago for LJ.


End file.
